


Seven Years

by songsformonkeys



Category: The Equalizer (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27196801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songsformonkeys/pseuds/songsformonkeys
Summary: It’s been seven years since the last time you saw Dave York. Seven years since you left the business. And yet, you recognize him straight away when he crosses the street in front of you, just as you exit the small grocery shop with your arms full of the things you’d just bought. It’s him, alright. You would recognize that profile anywhere. And you know why he’s here. He’s going to kill you.
Relationships: Dave York/You
Kudos: 37





	Seven Years

**Author's Note:**

> @readsalot73 asked for a fic where Dave trails a former colleague of his, and he thinks he’s being successful but then she turns the table on him. Readsalot73 also wanted some major nookie thrown in there, with a woman who knows how to make a man heel. This isn’t quiiite that. This story sort of got away from me and it’s a little more sentimental than that but I hope you enjoy it anyway. If not, there will be more Dave and hopefully, you'll like future ones better.
> 
> As always, big thanks to @yespolkadotkitty, without whom all my stores would be much less coherent, worse spelled, and have shittier titles. I love you <3

It’s been seven years since the last time you saw Dave York. Seven years since you left the business. And yet, you recognize him straight away when he crosses the street in front of you, just as you exit the small grocery shop with your arms full of the things you’d just bought. It’s him, alright. You would recognize that profile anywhere. **  
**

You allow yourself just a few moments to watch him. It’s all you can afford and in the few seconds, before you turn and start to walk slowly in the opposite direction, you take in the changes to his face and body. He looks older, softer, and more hardened at the same time. You suppose that’s only to be expected. You know you look very different from what you did seven years ago as well.

Glancing back one final time before you round the corner of the building, you see Dave scanning the street, definitely looking for something. _Someone_. He doesn’t see you this time and as soon as you’re out of his line of vision, you speed up your steps back to the car. Your arms are loaded with bags of groceries that you unceremoniously dump into the backseat of the old Toyota Land Cruiser, before driving out of town, in the opposite direction of where you’d spotted Dave York.

You know why Dave is here. Right from the moment when you left the business, you’d known that he would eventually come after you. Truth be told, you had expected it to happen years ago and, a little irrationally, you almost feel hurt that it has taken him this long. You had thought you were more important than that.

The little house you live in is hidden in the woods, quite a distance from the main road and easy to miss if you don’t know it’s there. There’s an accompanying barn and a small patch of land for growing vegetables. It had suited your needs perfectly and you’d bought it straight away when you had shown up here six years ago, having realized that living on the run in various motels wasn’t a working long term solution.

In the beginning, there had been a security system set up around the perimeter of the garden, cameras to alert you to any intruders, and traps to make them regret intruding in the first place. But as the years passed and no one came, you relaxed and by now most of the traps are useless.

The cameras are still there though and it takes you about half an hour to set them all up again and make sure nothing is blocking their line of sight. One or two have to be moved due to the way the bushes and trees have grown over the years.

You hesitate when it comes to the traps and finally decide not to rig them again. You tell yourself it’s the smartest thing. Dave is far too clever to get caught in any traps and finding them rigged is only gonna alert him to the fact that you’re expecting company and raise his guard. You know deep down that this is not the only reason for your hesitation and you curse yourself for it. If the roles had been reversed, you know that Dave would not have shown you the same kind of mercy.

With the cameras set up, the waiting game begins. You’re too nervous to eat dinner and, when midnight rolls around with no sign of Dave, you have to force yourself to go to bed. You’re confident that the security system will alert you to his approach long before he reaches the house, but you still sleep with a knife under your pillow.

You dream of Dave that night, of memories you haven’t revisited in years. They’re still as vivid as if they had happened yesterday, as if you would wake up the next morning and actually see the marks that he sucked into your skin seven years ago. The Dave in the dream feels more real and familiar to you than the stranger wearing his face that you’d spotted in the streets. Dream Dave smiles and holds you and he feels safe, right up until the moment he says he loves you and stabs you in the heart.

You wake with a gasp in tangled sheets and immediately check if the security system has gone off. It hasn’t and you relax back against your pillow, seeing the younger Dave’s face hovering above you.

There hasn’t been anyone since Dave. There was no point in getting attached when you knew death waited just around the corner. It would be cruel to put a potential partner through that. So you’ve been on your own. It’s been lonely. But it has worked.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave shows up in the woods around the cabin the next day. The security system goes off around five o’clock in the afternoon, when you’re in the kitchen, eating an apple. Your heart rate spikes before settling onto the calm and steady beat that you had trained it into back in the day. It was just like riding a bike.

As you open your laptop to check the feed from the cameras, you’re very grateful for the dumb luck that had given you a headstart yesterday. Dave is slowly making his way through the vegetation towards the house. He stops to check the remains of an old dismantled trap and you think you see his lips curve into a smile before he continues forward. You estimate that you’ll have another few minutes before he’s close enough to see the house.

Pulling on your shoes and a jacket, you load your arms with firewood and watch the video feed until Dave has hunkered down behind a tree before you head outside. You know from the video, just where Dave is sitting and you make your way over to the barn in a way that doesn’t look planned but still provides you with enough cover that Dave would hesitate to shoot you. Not that you’d actually seen a rifle on the video but still… better safe than sorry. The big pile of firewood also works as a primitive barrier between your chest and any bullets shot your way. You count on Dave being as much of a perfectionist as he was seven years ago, and that he won’t just shoot you in the leg and then hope for the best. A clean kill was always his MO and you hope he hasn’t gotten sloppy with age.

You make it inside the barn and smile because clearly, some things don’t change.

Now begins the second part of the plan and you position yourself just inside the barn door, with a log held tightly in your hands.

As expected, Dave shows up just a couple of minutes later. He barely has time to take a step into the barn before you swing the log at his head, but it seems Dave still has reflexes like a cat because he twists and you hit him square in the back instead. He takes a stumbling step forward before whirling around and barreling towards you, eyes narrowing in anger.

You block some of Dave’s blows, dodge others, and get hit by a few. A vicious kick to your kidney sends you sprawling on the ground but you roll away before Dave can get on top of you. A few of your kicks and punches hit their mark too and you hear Dave grunt with pain.

The fight continues. You’re strong, pretty fast too. But Dave is better. It’s becoming more and more obvious that the training you’d done on your own over the years is nowhere near enough to put you on par with your former colleague. And yet, despite his superior fighting, Dave keeps missing really obvious opportunities to catch you and snap your neck. It only needs to happen three times for you to realize that it’s very much on purpose. Dave isn’t missing the opportunities, he’s actively avoiding to seize them. That scares you more than anything has since you spotted Dave in town yesterday. Dave doesn’t want to give you a swift death. This is personal, and you dread to find out what he has planned.

Unexpectedly, it’s the goat that saves you. Having wandered freely around the garden for the day, he must have now decided to retreat home. You don’t see him coming but suddenly he lets out one of his hellish bleats and Dave, who clearly is unfamiliar with such sounds, is momentarily distracted. It’s just enough time for you to get your hand on the discarded log next to you and take another swing at Dave’s head. This time it connects, full force, and Dave topples over like a puppet whose strings have just been cut.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

There’s rope in the barn, and you quickly tie Dave’s hands and feet together. The last thing you need is Dave waking up not only murderous but also pissed over having lost a fight.

You’re very grateful not to have any neighbors as you wrap your arms around Dave’s torso and drag him across the yard, towards the house. _Man, he’s heavy! Or maybe you’re just out of shape._

You try desperately – and fail – not to notice the way he smells of nothing but the faintest scent of shampoo or the way his body feels solid, warm, and real under your hands.

Inside, you manage to prop Dave up on a chair in the kitchen and tie him to it, without loosening the restraints you already have on him. Then you make yourself some coffee and wait for Dave to come to.

It doesn’t take long. A couple of minutes later, he lets out a low groan that abruptly stops as he realizes what’s going on. He tests the restraints by pulling on them but even from where you’re standing by the kitchen counter you can tell that it’s half-hearted. Dave knows…knew you. He knows it’s no use to try and get out of your knots.

”You got a goat,” he says. It’s the first words he’s spoken to you in seven years and while the rasp of his voice sends pleasant shivers up your spine, the choice of words isn’t quite what you had imagined.

”I did. His name is Yorkie,” you lie, but it’s worth it to see the glare that Dave gives you. If a look could kill then you would have dropped dead on the spot just now.

”Untie me,” Dave says and there’s no mistaking that he’s trying to give you an order. You raise your eyebrows and Dave tugs on the restraints again.

”You think I’m a fool, Dave York?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest as he continues to glare at you. ”Besides, from what I remember you used to really enjoy being tied up.”

That takes him by surprise and you watch as an emotion you can’t quite place flitter across his face. His adam’s apple bobs slightly as he swallows and his voice sounds even lower when he replies.

”That was a long time ago.”

”It was,” you agree. ”I gotta say… I thought you’d be here sooner.” It annoys you that you can’t quite keep the hurt from your voice and you can tell that Dave notices it too because he tilts his head just a fraction to the side in question.

”I didn’t think I could persuade you to come back,” he says.

”Not to…” you start, before cutting yourself off and shaking your head. ”You still with the others?” you ask instead. Dave nods slowly.

”That’s sort of why I’m here,” he tells you and, of course, it doesn’t come as a surprise to hear him admit that he’s here to kill you but you still aren’t quite prepared for it. You know what this means, even if you’ve avoided thinking about the implications of it ever since you opted out of rigging the traps yesterday. Dave finding you here means you have to move, find a new hiding spot and start over again. But what about Dave? Would you have to kill him? _Could you?_ You haven’t killed anyone in seven years and even the people you had killed before had never been your former lovers. Would Dave stop hunting you if you spared his life? Not likely. You couldn’t think of a scenario where both of you got out of this alive.

”I want out.”

_Except for that…_

”E-excuse me?” you stutter, certain you’d heard wrong.

”I want out,” Dave says again, ”And I thought maybe you could help me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dave talks and you listen, wondering if he’s telling the truth. Hoping that he is. He tells you how he’s tired of the job, that more and more of the lines have been blurred and that he no longer wants to do this. You don’t need to ask whom it was that he killed that finally pushed him over the edge. It must have been someone close to him, maybe even someone you knew.

In the end, you decide to trust and untie him. It’s that or killing him, and deep down you know that you won’t be able to do that. You’re weak. It’s why you left in the first place.

When the ropes are cut off, Dave rubs his wrists and touches the side of his head where the log had hit. You suspect there’s quite a bump by now and you would apologize but you know there’s a bruise the size of Dave’s boot on your lower back so you figure that makes you even.

You hand him a mug of coffee, which he accepts with a quiet ”Thanks.” Then silence stretches out between you. Where do you even begin after seven years apart? _Seven years_. It feels like a lifetime and at the same time like no time has passed at all. His hair is no longer the spiky buzz cut that it had been the last time you’d seen him and there are crows feet at the corners of his eyes. But his lips look just as soft as always and the rich brown color of his eyes is still deep enough to drown in. 

It’s clearly the same Dave but at the same time, it’s not.

He’s watching you too and you wonder what he’s seeing, suddenly feeling self-conscious about all the ways you might have aged too, the lack of makeup and the dirty clothes – although, he’s mostly the one to blame for that last one.

”Were you followed?” you eventually ask. It’s not what you really want to ask. You already know Dave wasn’t followed. If he wanted out, he would have made sure to have a fool-proof plan. But you need to say something before the silence tells him too many other things.

Dave shakes his head in response to your question.

”No. They think I’m on vacation with the girls.”

”You have a family,” you say quietly. You don’t know why the thought makes you so sad.

”I do. Well…I _had_ a family, I suppose,” Dave says, slowly turning the coffee mug on the table.

”Dave…”

”Don’t.” He looks up. The warning is clear in his voice and his eyes are like steel behind the brown irises. ”This is for them, too. They’ll be fine with their mom.”

The silence builds between you again. You don’t dare to say anything even though there are a million questions you’re dying to ask. It’s just as well. The answers to half of those questions would probably end up breaking your heart. How long after you’d left had he met the mother of his children?

”If you’re going to disappear,” you say, trying to distract yourself from your thoughts, ”You’re gonna need a few things. I can call my contact in the morning. You’re welcome to stay here until then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When dinner time rolls around, you cook up a quick meal for the two of you. Dave can’t resist remarking on your sudden ability to cook. You disagree with him about the _sudden_ part of the statement, though.

”I’ve spent seven years on my own. It was either learn or starve,” you tell him and that brings a small smile to his lips.

”I’ll still let you have the first bite,” he teases, and the banter feels familiar. You smile too and throw a slice of cucumber at him. He effortlessly catches it and brings it to his mouth. Your gaze lingers on his lips for just a second too long before you hurriedly look away. Dave doesn’t comment on it and when you dare to look at him again he’s back to his serious half-scowl.

Despite his initial skepticism, Dave actually seems to enjoy the meal you’ve made and even asks for a second helping.

While you eat, you mostly talk about the things Dave is gonna need from your contact. It’s a safe topic that keeps you from drifting too close to the things you might actually want to say. Talking to Dave now is strange. He’s more guarded, less relaxed, than when you knew him and even when he smiles it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

After dinner, you help Dave turn the couch into a makeshift bed for the night, then give him a tour of the small house. It doesn’t take long.

Dave goes back outside to get the backpack that he’d left outside by the tree. He sets it down next to the couch and you find yourself very curious about its contents. What has Dave deemed worthy to salvage from the life he’s abandoning? He’s never struck you as the sentimental type, but maybe something from his daughters?

You and Dave dance around each other all evening, talking without really saying anything, and with every turn, the house seems to grow smaller and smaller. Dave is watching you like a hawk and you can’t tell if you love it or hate it.

When ten pm rolls around, you say goodnight to Dave as he’s brushing his teeth in the bathroom. Then you retreat to your own bedroom. You don’t close the door behind you. You know you probably should, but you don’t.

You’ve just pulled the big t-shirt you sleep in over your head when you hear your name softly spoken from behind you. You turn slowly.

Dave is standing in the open doorway, just outside the threshold, like he’s afraid to cross it.

There’s no mistaking the question in his eyes as he watches you. You’ve seen that look before and it suddenly feels almost impossible to breathe. You move forward before you’ve had time to fully think it through and as you crash into him, he catches you, just like he’s done so many times before.

He grips your face in big, strong hands and kisses you like a man starving And you’ve dreamt about him for seven years and so you waste no time before kissing him back.

Nor do you waste any time tugging him with you towards the bed, helping him out of his clothes as you go.

He’s broader than you remember him and it suits him. He looks different in a million little ways but some things are very much familiar; like the jagged scar on his hip that he cut open trying to climb over a fence or the small tattoo on the inside of his thigh that you had given him on a drunken weekend in New Orleans. You want to bite that tattoo, can’t wait to see if it will still bring the same noise from his lips when you do.

Dave is down to his underwear when he sits down on the edge of the bed and tugs you onto his lap. You straddle his thighs, wrapping your arms around his shoulders for support. Not that you really need it. Dave has got one arm securely around your back, holding you in place, while his other hand curls around the back of your head, pulling you in again.

He kisses you with an urgency you hadn’t expected from him. Dave has always been a collected and calculated man. Back in the day, there had always been a strong sense of Dave being in control in everything he did and you had used to cherish the short moments where you could pretend you had managed to rock him off-kilter. Now, though, his hands and lips are almost frantic when they touch you. He’s already hard in his boxers when he grinds his hips against you, drawing a short gasp from your lips.

Smiling against his lips, you slowly slide your hand under the waistband of his boxers to curl your fingers around his cock, rock hard and velvety smooth at the same time. It turns out that’s another part of him that hasn’t changed much.

The sound Dave makes when you begin stroking him is pure filth and you feel his breath stutter against your lips as you continue kissing. You keep your touch light and slow and it seems to slow Dave down as well, ground him. His kisses deepen and he presses your body closer to his, forcing you to still your hand before he realizes that if he wants you to keep doing what you’re doing he’s going to have to give you at least a little bit of room to actually move.

He actually chuckles at that and the wave of affection and nostalgia that the sound sends surging through your body would have been enough to move mountains.

You begin stroking his cock again and, wanting to return the favor, Dave works his way into your underwear as well. His fingers find your clit and he strums it until neither of you can breathe properly and you tremble your way through your first orgasm. It’s the best you’ve felt in many years.

You whimper Dave’s name into his ear. Everything is completely still for a moment and then something shifts. It starts with a tightening of his grip on your hips and his body tenses. At first, you think he’s about to come too but then he grips your wrist and pulls it away from his cock. He flips you over. The bed creaks as you land on your back on the mattress, but you hardly have time to settle before Dave grips your legs and roughly tugs you towards where he’s suddenly looming over you. You almost laugh at his eagerness but then you see his face and it’s not anticipation you see reflected there. An irrational thought strikes that maybe Dave will kill you after all and you hold your breath. But Dave only pushes his underwear down and hooks your legs around his waist.

When he pushes into you, it’s not tender or loving. It’s not painful either but it’s overwhelming and you gasp at the sensation.

Once he’s fully inside you, he grabs hold of both your wrists in one hand and pins them against the mattress. If there had been anything close by to use, you’re pretty sure he would have tired you up.

Restraints have never been unfamiliar in the bedroom for the two of you, and they have served many purposes. For you, looping a coil of rope around Dave’s wrists and arms, leaving him vulnerable and at your mercy, was always about trust. It was a way for Dave to say that he knew you wouldn’t hurt him, that you were allowed closer than anyone else had even been allowed to come.

When Dave handled the ropes it was about the exact opposite. When Dave tied you up, it was a warning. _Don’t touch me!_

His hand, currently holding your wrists, might not be a rope but the intention is the same. Despite his moans only a minute ago, you’re no longer allowed to touch, and you’re not sure why.

Dave snaps his hips into you again, making you gasp and your hips buck on the bed. Dave’s other hand lands on your hip and he holds you in place as he fucks you. It feels sensational, despite the nagging voice at the back of your head that is asking why Dave is fucking you like he’s punishing you for something.

You moan his name again and suddenly he let’s go of your wrists, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. There’s a pained expression on his face and the pressure against your forehead hurts you too so you reach up and gently guide his face to the side so you can kiss and lightly nibble at his neck. It’s with less finesse than you would have liked but every thrust of Dave’s hips feels like a pleasurable punch to the gut and it’s distracting you from properly thinking and from using any finer motor skills.

You wince as Dave’s mouth latches onto the side of your neck. He bites down a little too hard before he sucks on the skin in a way that is sure to leave a mark.

His mouth is next to your ear when, a few moments later, he growls: ”You left… You _fucking_ left!”

You freeze, suddenly realizing what this is about, why his touch has turned rough. You open your mouth to say something but before you can even get a word out, Dave’s hand is covering your mouth.

”Don't” he hisses again, but this time it’s not quite an order. There’s a fragility to his voice. He closes his eyes and his hips slow down. You reach up to touch his face but he pushes your hand away and buries his face against your neck. The slow roll of his hips is a different kind of torture and you clench around him. It’s with the softest of whimpers that he comes and, this time, when you wrap your arms around you, he lets you.

You lie in a sort of daze, with him still inside of you for a while, before he eventually pulls out and goes to the tiny ensuite bathroom for a wet cloth. When he comes back he sits down next to you. There’s a tenderness to his touch as he cleans you off but he refuses to look you in the eye, despite you trying to capture his gaze.

He stands up again and walks back into the bathroom to dispose of the cloth in the bathroom. Then, to your surprise, he heads for the door.

”Wait,” you tell him, a little confused, and he stops, ”Please stay.”

He looks at you for a moment and there’s hurt in his eyes. ”… _You_ didn’t,” he tells you. And then he leaves. Only to the living room but in your heart he might as well have left the country. You lay still, feeling like you’ve just been slapped and hoping for him to change his mind. When it gets too cold, you have to pull the covers back up again and are forced to accept that he’s not coming back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning you wake up alone in bed. It’s the same way you’ve woken up for the past 7 years but today it feels a little extra lonely because you could have had someone here with you, if you hadn’t fucked it up. Fucked it up by doing the wrong thing 7 years ago, according to Dave.

Dave is already awake and sitting out on the porch when you emerge from the bedroom. For a brief moment you thought he had left, but then you had seen his backpack on the floor next to the couch.

You make some coffee for the both of you and bring a mug outside as a peace-offering, even though you’re not sure you should have to be the one to apologize. Dave accepts the mug and doesn’t tell you to fuck off when you sit down on the steps next to him, so you take that as a good sign.

You both drink your coffee in silence for a moment, looking out over the garden. The air feels charged, like the way it does before a fight. You don’t think Dave is gonna fight you. But you think maybe _he_ thinks you will and is preparing for that. Fortunately for him, you’re not quite as hot-headed as you had been when you were young. 

You don’t want to fight but you don’t want this silence either. And, as always, you’re the one to speak first.

”What was I supposed to have done, Dave?” you ask him with a sigh. You don’t explain what you’re referring to but you’re fairly certain you don’t need to. ”Told you? Asked you to come with? You would have killed me, and you know it.”

Dave doesn’t look at you, just stares into the depths of his coffee mug.

”I was in love with you,” he finally says and your heart skips a beat despite the past tense.

”Love wouldn’t have stopped you from doing your job, Dave.”

Dave doesn’t answer. He knows you’re right. What you did might have hurt him but it had been the only way. Dave knows it, even if he won’t admit it.

”Did you love me?” he asks and this time he turns his head slightly to meet your gaze. His eyes are soft now and hold none of the harshness and anger from last night. You give him a faint smile.

”Don’t ask stupid questions, Dave York. You know I did.”

”And after? Has there…” He lets the question hang in the air but you don’t need to hear the rest to know what he’s asking. So you shake your head.

”There hasn’t been anyone else,” you tell him, ”No point when I thought I was gonna die.”

”Were you waiting for me?” There’s that vulnerability again. The one that makes you want to wrap your arms around him and never let go.

”Every night for about a year…then I figured you would have found me if you were actually looking.”

Dave nods. Then he sets his mug down on the porch and taps his fingers on his knees, the way he’s always done when he’s thinking.

”’m sorry about yesterday,” he eventually says.

”Sorry about the fucking or the leaving?” you counter because you’re not quite sure which he’s referring to.

”Mostly the leaving,” he says quietly and reaches out to caress a spot on your neck where you’d noticed earlier that he’d left a mark the night before. You lean into the touch and Dave cups your cheek, guiding you closer. You don’t need much prompting to allow him to kiss you again.

It’s less urgent than yesterday. More exploring, like rediscovering each other again after so many years apart. He takes your mug from your hand and sets it down next to his own. You lie down on the porch, the wood slightly cool against your back. Dave blankets you with his body and you allow his hands to map you out once more. This time they touch you like you’re something precious and like he’s trying to erase the roughness from the night before. You don’t know if this means you’re forgiven, but it feels like you are, at least for now.

It’s much later when either of you can bring yourselves to pull apart.

You push his hair from his forehead and glance down at your watch.

”I should call my contact,” you say and sit up. Dave sits up too and you can’t resist giving him a final kiss.

”Let’s give you a fresh start, Dave York.”


End file.
